What It's Like To Be A Social Worker

How far would you go to help someone in need?

To the end of the street?

To the end of the world?

How far should you go?

As frustration drips from your fingers or your brows furrow as your arms grow weak.  The best you give is only the best you can.

Step toward them with your heart wide open and keys jangling in the ignition.  Now or never.  You or no one.  Let's ride.

More critical than the NBA title, but less publicized than the new McDonald's grill buzzer.

A crystallized droplet of life hangs suspended before you.  Long time, no see. You brush against it with a thumb as you pass, a subtle salutation.

But your destination lies beyond it, far beyond the edge where harsh reality tumbles down into the waters below, crashing against rocks.  There is no sun or rain or anger or dingy therapists' offices.  There is only an outstretched hand.

It's all you can offer.

Yet you stand firmly.  Your shoulders are square as you reach forward.  You stare deep into their eyes without flinching.  To stand still is to leap into the unknown.  Jots and tittles have no place here, and words don't describe themselves, only hearts.  They trickle down through your hair like liquid rainbow from a dimension of light and meaning that only occasionally brushes up against our world.

The inner muscles you try to flex as you talk feel weak and awkward.  Yet weak in a way that makes you feel stronger than you have in a long time.  Strong in a way that makes it ok to be weak, to not be the best, to be just one of many.

One of many you work with, minds pointed toward the welfare of another, not at each other.  A brotherhood forged from the steely link of trying to help the same human.  On the link is written: DO ANYTHING FOR THEM

Anything, even when it means less than you want to.

Yet, "Can we give them another chance?"

"Is there something more to help them see?"

"What more can we give?"

Hope for them when there is none left, trust when it's been exhausted, believe when there's no more reason why.

Why?

That's one of the things left un-verbalized.

Together, your sickles flash in the sunlight as your each gather and protect with your might.

Bright possibilities for their future are laid up in store

 How is it possible to observe tragedy, heartache, disappointment, and pain, try to fix it, fail, and feel happier for it?

Maybe because you didn't fail.

Maybe you don't know what success looks like.

There is something that survives when all else has died.  It stands independent of all circumstance and opposition.  Shining in the dark, it endures no matter the doubt or lack of understanding.  There is no explanation, and there doesn't have to be.  It is simply always there.

It is there because it isn't a behavior, thought, or desire than can come and go with time, though it though it often gives rise to them.  It is essence, being, identity.  It never changes.

No matter the years that pass, it remains.  No matter the distance that stretches on, it pierces through it.  No matter the reasons it shouldn't work, it rises above them.  The rule of this world has no claim on it, because it is not of this world.

It is this thing that breathes life into your work and electrifies what others consider un-electrifiable.  It never gives up, and it never gets old.  It just smiles softly and gently rocks your world.

So how far do you go to help someone in need?

From this step to the next.
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